


Trick Or Treat

by RisemboolRanger



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Fear, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisemboolRanger/pseuds/RisemboolRanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're a thrill seeker it gets harder to find that certain buzz. Willow Samhain finds this out the hard way, until a stranger offers her the opportunity to try something very different. After all, what could provide more of a thrill than the taste of pure fear?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hook, Line and Sinker

“ _...Brendan Paget is currently being treated by psychiatrists, whilst Ernest Paget’s funeral is being held at St. Catchpole Church next week._

_The Paget family have been attempting to sue the park for the incident, but Scarefair had already proved that they have enough health and safety notices on display and that Mr. Paget shouldn’t have even entered the ‘Interactive Scare Experience’ when he was aware of his condition._

_Scarefair are still trying to show their remorse for the Paget family’s loss and scare model, Willow Samhain (23), has already been questioned by the police..._ ”

Willow had never expected her name to be in the papers. And if it was a surprise to her, then it was definitely a surprise to the rest of her family.

It was hard growing up with your mom being a popular weather girl and your dad a renowned lawyer. Even harder when your siblings were all much more successful than you too – a famous football player, an up-and-coming model... Even her youngest sister was already an honour student.

Yep, Willow definitely had a serious case of middle child syndrome. But at least now she’d had her own spotlight. Even if it wasn’t quite the fame the rest of the family wanted to add to their name. Funnily enough, Willow had no remorse concerning the Paget family. She saw it entirely as the old man’s fault – not her own. Just another reminder that she wasn’t like most other people.

But regardless of who was at fault, her so-called ‘fame’ hadn’t quite brought about the best consequences. Willow’s requested presence in her manager’s office that morning had not gone down the way she’d hoped.

“Based on recent... incidents, we’re going to be changing your job role for a little bit,” Debby had told her.

“So I’m being demoted,” Willow had said flatly.

“No, no, nothing like that! We know it wasn’t your fault. This will only be temporary,” Debby had insisted. “We just want to show the public that we regret what happened and that we’re trying to change how things work here.”

“Right,” Willow had replied in a bored tone, the words from the article replaying through her mind. _Scarefair are still trying to show remorse._ So apparently her being questioned by the police hadn’t been enough. People were just all about image these days.

“So for now, we just want you to work in the ticket booth and in lost and found,” Debby had explained. She’d then pointedly added, “You won’t need to wear any costumes.”

So that was how Willow had ended up sitting in the lost and found kiosk one afternoon, bored out of her mind. Although she generally disliked being around crowds of people, it wasn’t very interesting being stuck in the quietest part of the park. Plus the nature of her job usually made up for the crowds.

She’d always thought of Scarefair as one of the best jobs in the world – second only to her weekend job, but that didn’t quite pay the rent by itself. As a scare model working alongside the rides, she had the fun of terrifying people all day long.

Willow liked the thrill of adrenaline that came from being scared and getting to scare other people was just as fun. Not to mention she was great at her job. Being a long-time horror enthusiast, she knew a lot about what was scary and what people thought would be scary.

Yet apparently, she’d been too good at her job. Which was why she was now stuck in lost and found. Wearing boring clothes, working boring tasks.

After another few hours stuck in the empty kiosk, Willow was all but ready to put her head down on the desk and go to sleep. She’d never had to do the lost and found shift herself before, but clearly somebody had been doing it every other day. How had they coped?

“Excuse me, is your name Willow Samhain?”

Willow glanced up at her first customer of the day. He was at least several years older than her, wearing glasses and a neat dark suit. He looked more like a businessman than just another guy trying to get kicks from what the horror-themed amusement park had to offer.

“If you’re a reporter, no. If you’re anyone else, yes and what do you want?” Willow recited bluntly in her usual bored tone – the way she generally spoke to people.

The faintest trace of a smile passed over the man’s face. “Actually, I’m a psychiatrist.”

Wrong answer. “I think I’ve already spoken to enough people regarding the whole Paget incident,” said Willow.

“Essentially, I wanted to speak to you on a more personal level,” the man explained. “I believe it could be quite beneficial to you.”

“I’m not the one who needs a shrink,” Willow replied coolly. “And from what I’ve heard, Brendan Paget already has plenty.”

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips again. “This isn’t really about the Paget family. My name’s Dr. Jonathan Crane and I think you might be exactly the kind of person I’ve been looking for.” He then added pointedly, “I’ve heard you’re very good at your job.”

“So good that I gave an old man a heart attack and sent his grandson to a mental institute.” She said it in a sarcastic tone, though the words were all true. “Is that really what you’re after?”

Crane was unperturbed by her sarcasm. “Yes,” he said simply, almost earnestly, as if the answer was obvious.

Willow raised her eyebrows. In principle, she didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t have any friends and she lived alone. The only person she felt she could rely on was herself. And even that was debatable at times. She didn’t know what this man’s game was, but she could tell that he definitely wasn’t someone to be trusted. Even more so than the usual mundane people that passed her by in everyday life. And she had a feeling that the sooner she got rid of him, the better.

“Well, I’m sorry, doctor, but my mommy told me I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Willow replied in an almost singsong voice. There rarely came a time where she ever answered anyone in complete seriousness.

Crane didn’t have chance to reply – their conversation was interrupted as another customer approached the kiosk. Two customers in the space of ten minutes. Now why hadn’t the rest of the day been like this?

“Oh and as you can see, we’re extremely busy here,” said Willow, the sarcasm ebbing back into her tone again as she indicated the single customer stood waiting.

“In that case, I’ll come and visit you again,” Crane told her sanguinely before leaving.

“You’re a doctor. Don’t you know you should make an appointment first?” Willow shouted after him.

“That’s what the warning was for,” he called back.

Willow scowled, unable to think of another comeback. She couldn’t sit and silently fume, because the new customer was still stood at the kiosk, looking a little put out. Willow sighed and finally addressed him, “Can I help you?”

“I lost a dollar,” said the guy shortly.

Willow stared at him, pan-faced. What was this; asshole day? “...I’m sorry to hear that?”

He clearly didn’t get it. “Has anybody handed a dollar in?”

“I don’t know what world you’re living in, but people don’t generally hand in money here,” said Willow, hoping he’d take the hint this time.

The guy just stared at her blankly before stupidly repeating, “I lost a dollar. This is supposed to be lost and found, isn’t it?”

Willow gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to point out that she’d heard him perfectly the first time and that she knew very well where she’d been forced to work for the last several hours. “If I give you any dollar, then will you leave me alone?”

He continued to stare blankly at her for several more seconds until he finally decided, “Yeah.”

Willow sighed again, pulled a crumpled dollar bill out of her pocket and tossed it across the counter at him. “Here then. Have a good day,” she said very pointedly.

Thankfully, this time, he took the hint and shuffled off, muttering to himself. Willow knew that she probably should have just enforced the rule that they didn’t reimburse lost money – especially since she’d taken it out of her own pocket – but she just couldn’t be bothered to argue.

When could she go back to being a scare model already? She could handle scaring people just fine, but having to communicate with them in a more basic manner? Not so much.

Plus if she didn’t get moved from this kiosk soon, she was sure to lose her job for being rude to customers.

**XXX**

The following day, Willow was eternally grateful to be working at the ticket booth instead. Sure, there was a lot more of having to deal with people hands on, but it still beat being bored out of her skull on her own at the lost and found kiosk.

In one respect, it didn’t really seem to matter where she was working. As soon as the crowds started to die down again, she discovered that her ‘scheduled appointment’ with Dr. Crane was as real as promised.

She quickly dove in first with her usual measure of heavy sarcasm. “Back again, doc? But I felt we covered so much in our last session.”

“There’s always room for more analysis,” replied Crane in a faux good-natured manner. “I still don’t feel we went into enough detail on _why_ you’re so good at your job.”

“And _why_ is that so important?” Willow shot back.

“Call it research material.”

“The only thing I’ll be calling is security if you don’t give me a proper answer,” Willow warned.

Crane seemed more amused by her threat than anything else, but he did still give her a bit more detail this time. “I’ve been conducting some experiments and carrying out research on what it is that people fear.”

“Oh,” said Willow. She hadn’t been expecting that. “You could have just said that in the first place.”

“Well, what I said wasn’t exactly untrue,” Crane pointed out. “It is still research material.”

Willow scowled at him. “You’d better make this worth my time or I’m gonna lose interest real quick.”

“Then maybe you should answer my question,” Crane suggested pointedly.

Willow considered her answer for a few seconds, trying to think how to put it into words. “I like horror. I like anything to do with horror. I watch it, I read it... I create it. I know the kind of things that most people are afraid of. I know what works and what doesn’t.” She paused. “That’s why I’m good at my job.”

Crane was pleased with her answer. He had a feeling that he’d come to the right person. “So you know what scares people?” he prompted.

“Pretty much,” agreed Willow. She wasn’t trying to brag. This was just her passion – the one thing she was proud to know everything about.

“I do have another question,” announced Crane.

“Go for it,” said Willow, a little of her bored drawl creeping back. She was sure there was only so long she could continue humouring him.

“What were you wearing on the night of Mr. Paget’s death?”

Now that was more the kind of twisted thing she’d been expecting to hear. Willow gave him a cold look. “And our time’s up. Sorry, Dr. Crane, but this session’s over.”

Crane just responded with a shrewd smile. As a psychiatrist, he could tell exactly when he’d overstepped his welcome and when a patient would clam up and refuse to give away anything else. Willow wasn’t any different in that respect – he could see it in her too. It was in the body language, the facial expressions, the even-harder-than-usual sarcasm... It wasn’t a problem. Tomorrow was just another day to try again.

“In that case, I’ll have to schedule another appointment for tomorrow,” he informed her.

“Sorry, but I’m already overbooked. What with my AA meeting and my regular slot with my psychic,” Willow replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

“Nothing like a late cancellation for the less important,” Crane remarked lightly. He then turned and stalked off, once again, not allowing Willow the chance to think up another comeback.

She stood in the booth and glared after him, feeling irritated. How did he manage to keep doing that? For a second, he’d almost caught her interest when he’d explained briefly about his research, but then he’d turned out to be just another creep. If he really did turn up again tomorrow, then she wasn’t going to be impressed.

Not long after Crane had left, one of the supervisors came over to give Willow a message. “Hey, Will, what time are you going on your lunch break?” he asked, a little warily. Several of Willow’s colleagues found her to be quite weird. Something she’d never minded. If it meant that a few more people had decided to keep their distance, then that was just a bonus for her.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Dunno. In about half an hour maybe?”

“Oh, okay. Debby just told me to tell you that she wants you to go back on the lost and found kiosk after lunch,” the supervisor explained.

Willow groaned. Could this day get any more annoying?

**XXX**

Despite the second tedious afternoon on the lost and found kiosk, Willow hit a stroke of luck. Because she’d managed to piss off two consecutive customers, she’d then been told the following morning that she was back on the ticket booth. Maybe being rude to customers was a smart move after all.

Good moods were quite rare for her and she certainly hadn’t imagined to be experiencing one whilst having to work the ticket booth, but of course, it didn’t last. Especially when it turned out that her favourite customer was hitting a hat trick.

She sighed when he appeared. “You know that I could easily get the security guards to throw you out, don’t you?”

“Well, you’d need a reason first, of course,” Crane pointed out.

Willow gave him a hard look before pointedly but flatly reciting, “As employees of Scarefair, we reserve the right to refuse service to any individual. Each of our opinions count as much as the next, we will not suffer abuse or harassment, yadda yadda yadda...”

“Refusing service doesn’t really have anything to do with security,” Crane reminded her, infuriatingly.

Willow scowled at him. “Okay, what do you really want? You’ve turned up for three days straight now and I’m guessing it’s not just because you can’t resist my natural charisma. If you have something to say, then just say it.”

Crane cleared his throat. As usual, he was unruffled by her rather sharp attitude. “I actually have a proposition for you.”

“Of course you do,” replied Willow, sounding bored again.

She wasn’t the stereotypical girl that most guys went for, but she’d still had her own share of attention. Usually from creeps who found her standoffish attitude to be simply another challenge. And from his recent actions, this appeared to be the case for Crane too.

Willow sighed. Well, she wasn’t going to be humouring him for much longer. “So what’s this proposition?”

Crane slowly took off his glasses and hooked them onto the neckline of his suit. He gave Willow a very deliberate look through startling blue eyes. “Would you like to see my mask?”

Willow raised her eyebrows. That definitely wasn’t what she’d expected. “ _You_ have a mask?”

“Yes,” replied Crane, lifting his briefcase up onto the counter and unclipping it. “I think that you of all people will appreciate it.”

He pulled what looked like a shapeless sack out of the briefcase and continued to slip it on carefully over his head. It was made out of some kind of old burlap material with skewed features cut into a rough face shape. It was very macabre looking and Willow couldn’t help but like it.

“Okay. Not bad,” admitted Willow. “So what exactly do you have a mask for? Are you auditioning to work here or something? Because I’m not in charge of any of that.”

“No, this is for more... personal affairs,” replied Crane. He sounded amused behind the mask, like the words had hidden meaning. “And this is just the first act. We still have the encore...”

He reached back into his briefcase, but was interrupted by a couple who had joined the booth. They both gave Crane a startled look when they saw the mask, who swiftly but inconspicuously closed the briefcase to conceal the remaining contents. Willow had a feeling that it was probably going to be better for less people to know about this whole thing, so she hastily cut in.

“You think that’s scary? You should see me with my makeup on,” she commented in a remarkably light way for her, attempting to casually pass Crane off as just another scare model.

It worked. The couple laughed and both turned their attention towards Willow instead. “Two please,” said the guy, handing over a couple of bills.

Willow took the money and stored it away in the cash register. She stamped both of the customers’ hands. “If it starts to wash off, then come back and I’ll re-do it,” she informed them, the monotony seeping back into her voice.

They thanked her and headed off in the direction of the park’s main attraction – the Interactive Scare Experience. As soon as they were out of sight, Crane took his mask off. Whereas the ticket booth was usually quite secluded on an afternoon, it was still a public place.

“Looks like I’ll have to show you the encore another time,” said Crane. He didn’t seem bothered by the idea and, strangely enough, neither did Willow anymore.

“Let me see that,” she said, as Crane had unclipped the briefcase again to put the mask away.

“Sorry, but this is for my hands only,” said Crane, again seemingly amused by his own comment.

“Look, whatever it is you’re hiding inside that thing, I really don’t care,” Willow pointed out, having noticed how carefully he’d pulled the mask on – like there was something inside that meant it had to be positioned in a precise way. “I just want a closer look.”

Crane studied her expression, as if trying to decide whether she was telling the truth, then obligingly handed the mask over. Willow turned it round in her hands, inspecting it more closely. It wasn’t a very neat job. The eye holes were cut crooked, the stitching across the mouth was very untidy and the hangman’s noose around the neck was grubby and frayed... But that just added to the charm of it.

Well, in her mind, it was charm. To anyone else, it probably would have been classed as something more along the lines of ‘creepy’.

“So I take it you like it?” asked Crane, bemused by the way she was eagerly looking over the mask like a child with a new toy. He knew for certain then that he’d come to the right person.

“It’s simple, but it works,” replied Willow. She stayed true to her word and just inspected the outside of the mask. She didn’t attempt to find out what Crane was hiding inside it. “It has good character.”

“Not the answer I was expecting,” remarked Crane.

“Yeah, apparently I never give the answers that people expect,” said Willow with just a hint of sarcasm this time, still studying the mask close up. “Most people don’t get how Chuckie can be cute or how Michael Keaton can be kinda sexy as Beetlejuice... Or how much fear just a simple mask can trigger.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this mask is the scariest thing you’ve seen in a long time,” observed Crane, still amused by the reverence in her voice.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But it’s not a bad attempt, doc. Not bad at all,” Willow replied, the barest hint of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “So why don’t you tell me why you’ve really been pursuing me? I doubt these visits have been just to show me a mask.”

“I do have another proposition for you,” Crane admitted.

“Yeah, I could tell that,” said Willow. “If this is for a job of some kind, then I can’t help you. I already have two as it is.”

“And what’s your second job?” asked Crane, mildly interested.

“I work at a zombie boot camp on weekends,” replied Willow shortly. Most people had never heard of zombie boot camps and she got bored of trying to explain it when she knew that they wouldn’t even be interested.

But Crane actually laughed at that. “Why am I not surprised? I said before that I thought you were exactly the kind of person I’d been looking for... Now I know that I was right.”

“Meaning?” She didn’t understand why he was being so consistently vague.

“That I could do with your knowledge for the experiments I’ve been working on,” said Crane. Willow opened her mouth to cut in, but he held up a hand to stop her. “It’s not a job exactly. Think of it as more of a... project.”

“Fine, let’s say I _was_ interested in your project...” She made sure she put plenty of emphasis into the word ‘was’. “You still haven’t explained why you came to me in the first place.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Crane pointedly. “I read about the infamous Willow in the papers. Not everyone can scare a person literally to death.”

“Okay, point,” agreed Willow. She could hardly argue with that. “And just call me Will. I’ve never liked Willow much.”

“How about Will-o’-the-wisp?” suggested Crane.

Willow actually had to fight a smile. You didn’t get many people nowadays who’d heard of Will-o’-the-wisp. “Cute... But do you even know who or what Will-o’-the-wisp is?”

“Will-of-the-torch, Stingy Jack, hinkypunks, spook-lights, hobby lanterns...” Crane reeled off. “Which would you prefer?”

Willow couldn’t quite hide her surprise this time. Instead, she gave Crane a curious look. “You just continue to surprise me, don’t you?”

“Does that mean that you’re interested?” asked Crane.

“You still haven’t explained what this project _is_ exactly,” Willow reminded him.

“That’s true,” Crane agreed. “How about I show you instead?”

Willow raised her eyebrows. She had no doubts in her mind that Crane wasn’t to be trusted and that agreeing to this ‘project’ probably wouldn’t be the smartest decision in the world, but what was another skeleton in the closet? Maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity for the excitement that she’d been waiting for.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “What the hell. If it’s in the interest of scaring people – like you say – then I guess I can hardly say no.”


	2. Guinea Pig

The demonstration had to wait until Willow had at least finished her shift. She’d agreed to meet Crane at the entrance to the park as soon as it was over. She had no idea what he was intending to show her and spent the rest of her shift distracted by her own curiosity. By the end, she was practically hopping with it, much to her own annoyance. She hated that he’d now gotten her so interested

She was determined at least not to show it. So when she reached the park’s main entrance, she slipped back into her usual bored state. “Let’s get this over with then. What did you want to show me?”

As before, Crane wasn’t bothered by her display of disinterest. “I can’t show you here. You’ll have to follow me.”

Willow made a show of sighing, but she followed him nevertheless. He’d already hooked her in – she wouldn’t be satisfied now until she’d seen whatever this demonstration was. But when he led her over to a discreet-looking white van and opened the door for her, she faltered, feeling apprehensive.

Even she knew better than that. It was the kind of thing that most people had drilled into them from childhood – don’t get into cars with strangers. And the fact that it was a van rather than a car just made it seem all the more shady.

Crane had already moved round to the driver’s side and gotten in. He gave Willow a mildly questioning look when he saw her still stood beside the open passenger door. “You won’t get anywhere standing on the sidewalk.”

“I was always told not to get into vehicles with strangers,” said Willow dryly.

“Well, then that’s up to you,” said Crane, unperturbed. He leant back in his seat, looking perfectly confident that Willow would still get in.

Annoyingly, he was right. Willow sighed properly this time and climbed into the van. She really was a glutton for punishment. She certainly wouldn’t be able to blame anyone but herself if this turned out to be a bad move. But the adrenaline was all in the danger, right?

She wasn’t really one for small talk and it turned out that Crane wasn’t the best conversationalist either, so they spent the main leg of the journey in silence. After a while, Willow started to feel even more restless. She didn’t recognise any of the surroundings outside. She wasn’t even sure of what direction they’d taken.

She reckoned she could put up enough of a fight to get away if Crane did turn out to be some kind of creep, but that didn’t help the fact that she had no idea where she was.

When they eventually did pull up at the side of the road, Crane went for his briefcase before anything else. He didn’t seem in a rush to get out. Willow took the opportunity to peer through the window and try to make sense of where they were. It didn’t really help.

She looked back to find that Crane had put his mask back on. “Err, what are you doing?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “I really hope you didn’t bring me all the way out here just to show me your mask again, because that isn’t really all that exciting...”

As she was speaking, she noticed a second too late that he had something else in his hand. It looked like some kind of spray canister.

“Wait, what is that?”

“Consider this the encore,” said Crane from behind the mask and sprayed the contents of the canister in her face.

Willow coughed and spluttered, waving her hand in a desperate attempt to disperse whatever toxin he’d just sprayed into the air. “What the hell are you...”

She stopped abruptly as a shadow flashed through the van, obscuring her vision momentarily. Was there someone else in here with them? It then happened again. And again.

There were faces, figures, pressing in on all sides. The van had suddenly filled with people without her even realising. Crane had vanished amongst the tide of spectres. She was left alone in the swarming crowd of contact that she didn’t want.

Willow squirmed in her seat, backing away as much as the seatbelt would allow her. She had to be hallucinating. “Wait, where did all these people...”

She stopped again as she realised that she recognised a lot of the faces. Family, colleagues, old teachers and classmates, people she passed every day on the way to work... And strangers. So many strangers...

All of them – people she knew, people she didn’t – breaking the space that she’d fought so hard to keep everyone out of. A hand on her shoulder, someone’s leg pressing up against hers, arms attempting to encircle her out of or some pity or attempt at comfort.

She desperately tried again to push away from them. Surely this wasn’t happening. It was impossible. There couldn’t be so many people trapping her into one tiny space. She couldn’t keep them all at arm’s length.

Willow snapped. “Stop it, leave me alone! All of you!” she cried suddenly, pulling frantically at the seatbelt that was restraining her. It took her several valuable seconds of panic to remember that she had to unclip it.

She flung it away from around her and grappled with the door handle. Was it locked? Was it jammed? _Why wasn’t it opening_?

The door suddenly swung open. Willow scrambled backwards out of her seat, unwilling to turn her back on the crowd of spectres, and tumbled out of the van in her crazed attempt to escape. She felt a brief sense of falling, like what you get when you jolt yourself awake from a dream, then everything cut out and she didn’t feel anything. Only darkness.

She really did dream then, but it was hard to distinguish anything from that overwhelming press of darkness. A road, a sea of faces, a strange man come to kidnap her. Books, tools, row upon row of bottles and beakers. Warm hands, a voice... And cold. Everlasting cold...

**XXX**

When Willow did finally wake, she found herself on a cold hard surface. Her back felt cramped, as if she’d been lying uncomfortably for a long time, and her head was throbbing – both behind her eyes and at some point close to her temple.

She rolled over to try and ease the ache in her back and whatever she was lying on clattered loudly. She opened her eyes wearily. She seemed to be lying on a metal table. What the... Where the hell was she?

She sat up a little too abruptly, causing her head to whirl. She closed her eyes again and manoeuvred her legs round more slowly so that she was sitting on the edge of the table surface. She kneaded the side of her head with her fingertips, trying to remember what had happened.

“I wouldn’t move too fast if I were you,” said a voice. “You likely still have a light concussion.”

The voice was all too familiar. Everything came back in a hazy, disjointed recollection. Driving to nowhere, a mask, too many people, the sense of falling... Well, that was likely a clear indicator as to where her headache had come from.

Willow opened her eyes again and looked around, making slower movements this time. She was in what looked like a bizarre mix between an ordinary, if a little rundown, kitchen and a rather grisly science lab. Crane was sat in the corner, reading what appeared to be some kind of textbook. Well, that pretty much explained why she’d woken up in such a weird place.

She gestured pointedly to the room around her. “So is this your way of telling me that you are a creepy kidnapper after all?”

“Well, I could have just left you unconscious at the side of the road. Take your pick,” said Crane mildly, without looking up from his textbook.

Willow grumbled to herself, still rubbing her head. How the hell had she managed to knock herself unconscious? She remembered the feeling of falling, but her memory was still hazy. And who was to say it had been her own doing anyway? “What did you do to me?”

“Actually, you did that to yourself,” Crane pointed out. “You were suddenly so eager to get away that you fell out of the van and hit your head on the sidewalk.”

And there was clearly a reason for that. Willow could remember faces flashing before her eyes, the feeling that the van was full of people... But not really the reason why. 

She narrowed her eyes. “You still did something to me.” Why was it so hard to remember? “That stuff you sprayed... It was some kind of hallucinogen, wasn’t it? What the hell was it?”

“I call it fear gas,” said Crane, seemingly not at all bothered that she’d figured it out. “You’re right; it is a hallucinogen. It causes people to envisage their worst fear. And from the sounds of what you seemed to be experiencing, I’d guess that yours is claustrophobia.”

“I’m not claustrophobic,” Willow scoffed. “You could put me in a box or a coffin if you wanted and I really wouldn’t give a damn.”

“So... crowds then?” Crane guessed instead.

“No,” said Willow shortly. “I work at a fairground that gets pretty busy at this time of year. Do you really think I could do that if I was scared of crowds?”

He was a little nearer to the mark, however. People getting close to her was more the issue. Emotionally, physically... It didn’t really matter. She’d been a bit of a head case from quite a young age. Any shrink would have a hell of a time psyching her out. Though she was most definitely never going to allow that.

“So it’s more specific,” Crane continued. He made it more of a statement than a question.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you, so you may as well just quit guessing,” said Willow point blank. “And this whole thing can’t be possible anyway. No drug could be so advanced as to target every individual differently on such a personal level.”

Crane finally closed the textbook and set it to one side. “Couldn’t it? So you’re telling me that whatever you saw wasn’t your worst fear? Is there something else that you fear more?”

Willow scowled. There was barely anything that she actually feared. But this so-called ‘fear gas’ had managed to hit the one thing that she did fear right on the head. It wasn’t like it was an altogether common phobia either, like fear of spiders or fear of heights. Crane was really onto something with this.

“How the hell did you manage to make something like that?” she asked as way of answering his question, trying not to sound impressed, even though she really was.

“Because I’m a master of fear,” said Crane simply. “I’ve put years of research into it. But... everything can still be improved on. There are viable antidotes out there for this, so I want to make it incurable. I have plans for other experiments too. Which is where you come in.”

“Yay me,” said Willow sarcastically. “So why exactly is that where I come in?”

“You said yourself that you know what scares people,” Crane reminded her. “Maybe even more than I do. If I can start off knowing exactly what is and isn’t likely to work, then hopefully I can achieve faster results.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be a guinea pig for your experiments after all,” said Willow.

“You said quite the opposite before.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I woke up in some weird-ass kitchen/lab hybrid after you made me knock myself out,” Willow pointed out dryly.

“You had a mild concussion. Really nothing to worry about,” Crane reassured, almost uninterestedly. “It was only that mixed with the after-effects of the toxin that kept you unconscious for so long.”

For so long? Willow glanced around the room, looking for a clock. But she didn’t find one. Only when she really assessed the aches and pains in her body did she realise that she’d clearly been out of it for a lot longer than she’d first thought.

“Just how long was I unconscious for?” she asked warily.

“I’d say roughly thirty-two hours,” Crane diagnosed.

“Thirty-two hours? Are you kidding me?” exclaimed Willow. She made to get down from the table, but the sudden movement made her head swim and she swayed where she was sitting. Thirty-two hours... She’d missed an entire day of work. And they’d have had absolutely no notice of it.

“You should lie back down,” said Crane, getting up. “Didn’t you hear me when I said you have mild concussion?”

“I thought you said it was nothing to worry about,” Willow grumbled. She didn’t lie down. “And I thought you were just a shrink – not a _doctor_ doctor.”

“I don’t need to be a ‘ _doctor_ doctor’ to know that hitting your head on the sidewalk isn’t going to be good for you,” said Crane wryly, stopping beside the metal table.

“Whatever. Because of you I missed a day of work and didn’t even get to notify them,” Willow complained. “Do you know how much trouble I’ll get in for that? I’m already on a sort of probation after the whole Paget incident. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get a written warning.”

As apathetic as Willow always seemed towards most things in life, her job was one thing she actually did find pleasure from. She did not want to risk it on some mysterious man she’d only just met and a project that she still didn’t quite understand.

“I called the fairground whilst you were unconscious and told them you were sick,” Crane explained indifferently. “The number was on their website.”

“You did _what_?” Willow angrily attempted to jump down from the table a second time. “What gives you the right to...”

Crane’s hand closed around her arm as he tried to push her back down. “I told you to lie down.”

“Let go of me.” Willow glared dangerously at him. “I was right; you’re a creep. I don’t want any part in this.”

But apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. Before she’d even realised what had happened, Crane had suddenly grabbed her other wrist and pinned her down to the table. “Do you expect me to just let you leave now after you’ve seen everything?”

Willow couldn’t believe he was even going there. _Now that I’ve told you, I have to kill you_. She’d seen it all the time in bad movies. But she reminded herself that this wasn’t a movie. This was real life. And people actually got hurt in real life.

“What, and you think it’ll be easy to just kill me without leaving a trace?” she said daringly. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but Crane was stronger than he looked.

“You think it won’t be?” countered Crane. “Does anybody know you’re here? Did you tell anyone you’d be going somewhere different after your last shift?”

Willow gritted her teeth. Of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t friends with anybody at work – she avoided even talking to them when possible. Why would she have told them anything? And as for her home life, she was always the first one back to the house. She then always spent so much time in her room that her family probably wouldn’t even notice that she wasn’t there.

But that didn’t mean she was going to make this easy. She suddenly bucked as hard as she could to try and throw Crane off, twisting her arms round in his grasp, attempting to loosen his grip.

She may not have been strong or athletic, but she was a scare model. She often had to play the part of zombies, possessed girls during exorcisms and once, she’d even acted out going through the motions of breaking her bones as she ‘transformed’ into a werewolf for one of their specially themed full moon nights. As a result, she was a lot more flexible than people expected.

And Crane definitely didn’t expect it. It was clear that he wasn’t really a hands-on man. As soon as Willow started tossing and turning and writhing about on the table, she was able to throw him off easily. She then leapt down and ran for the first door she could find, ignoring the banging in her head.

Her movements were sluggish – either from her concussion or the after-effects of the fear gas like Crane had said – and the world was still spinning before her eyes. She wasn’t going to get very far like this...

And she didn’t. She hadn’t even reached the door when Crane grabbed her again. This time, he wasn’t allowing her room to escape. He wound his arm around her neck, pulling her back against him, pressing just hard enough on her throat to make her breath catch. She couldn’t move. The more she struggled, the more his arm ground against her neck.

She desperately pulled at his arm with both hands, but she knew that she wasn’t going to get away a second time. He wasn’t squeezing her throat so much that she couldn’t breathe, but it was enough to hurt and the struggle was making her feel even more light-headed.

“Just what the hell do you want?” Willow asked, breathing heavily. Her head was now spinning so much that she felt sick.

“I thought I made that part clear already,” replied Crane, almost too calmly. “I want you to help me.”

“You really think this is the best way to go about it?” Willow pointed out sarcastically. It took a lot more than the threat of death to chase away her snarky attitude.

“You were the one who chose to make things more difficult for yourself.” Crane reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a tiny black spray canister. “It’s a shame... I think you would have been very valuable to my research if you’d been more cooperative.”

Willow could just about see the canister he was now directing at her face out of the corner of her eye. “More of your experiments, doctor?” Her sarcasm happened to be her best defence mechanism.

“This is more than an experiment,” said Crane. “I can give you a dose so concentrated that it’ll destroy your mind. No human would be able to handle this amount.”

Willow closed her eyes, trying to think. She couldn’t see any possible way out of this, but then it was hard to try and plan when she couldn’t stop thinking of the canister of toxin that was so close to her face.

She was scared. Of course she was. Who wouldn’t be? But that fear was followed by a thrilling lick of pleasure. Willow _loved_ the taste of fear. Nothing ever scared her anymore – it was as if the very notion of being able to feel fear had grown numb inside her over the years. She’d built up an immunity to all of the things that other people feared. She just found it all so... boring.

But Crane’s fear toxin was like nothing she’d ever experienced. The truth was that she’d never felt quite as alive as she had during those moments in the van. Having her mind tortured to insanity by the emotion she’d spent the last several years of her life trying to find didn’t sound like a bad way to go.

“Do it then,” she breathed. “I can’t imagine anything better.”

Crane hesitated, unsure if she was bluffing. “And how do I know you’re not just saying that to try and make me change my mind?”

“You’re the psychiatrist. You tell me if I’m lying,” said Willow boldly.

Crane was still hesitant, but he complied and very slowly removed his arm from around her neck. He kept the canister raised in case she tried anything. She didn’t. She simply allowed him to lay a hand on her shoulder and turn her round to face him. She then met his gaze steadily, almost defiantly.

He studied her face for a long time. There was absolutely nothing that suggested that she wasn’t telling the truth. “You’re not like everybody else, are you?”

“You didn’t realise that straightaway?” said Willow, nonplussed. She eyed the spray canister in Crane’s hand. “So are you going to do it or not?”

Crane glanced at the canister too, before lowering it. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Willow automatically reached for the canister without thinking about it. She suddenly felt like she needed to feel those effects again whilst they were still in reach. “But, wait...”

Crane raised his eyebrows at her reaction, pulling the canister back away from her. “Are you telling me you want to be driven insane?”

“When you put it like that, no,” said Willow stoutly. “But I do want to try that stuff again...”

Crane scrutinised her face even closer. She was still telling the truth. He pointedly put the canister back in his pocket. “Not this one. Even you wouldn’t be able to handle it and keep your mind still intact.”

“Fine, the one you used before then,” said Willow impatiently.

Crane looked amused. “Most people would be scared senseless of the idea after having it used on them once already.”

“Don’t get me wrong; I am too,” said Willow. “But that doesn’t mean...”

“Yet you’re so eager to try it again,” Crane interrupted her.

“Like you said, I’m not like everyone else,” said Willow simply. “I get kicks out of scaring people for a living, but nothing ever scares _me_ anymore. Everything’s too tame nowadays. I want to be scared. I miss that feeling – I miss the thrill of it. I miss the adrenaline. And this stuff that you've created... That was the first time I’ve felt real fear since I can even remember.”

As much as Willow always gave off the idea that she was uninterested in everything around her, it was clear that there were some things that she was truly passionate about. Crane could see that even more now. And even though she clearly wasn’t the most cooperative, he somehow had a feeling that she still wasn’t going to walk away from him just yet. Even if she did manage to escape for real. He now felt confident enough that she’d still come back.

“Well, I guess it’s nice to know that someone appreciates my work,” he said, still sounding amused. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you try the weaker version again.”

Willow didn’t appreciate the ‘if you’re good’ remark. “So you’ve decided you still want me around then?” she asked, trying to sound uninterested again.

“Did I ever say otherwise?” Crane countered. “I think it was you who got cold feet.”

“Was that the way it went? Somewhere along the lines of being told I wasn’t allowed to leave and then getting assaulted, I forgot that _I_ was the bad guy in this,” said Willow sardonically.

Crane didn’t apologise for it or even look abashed. Instead, he just smiled. “It’s a moot point really. I think we’re both bad guys here.”

For once, Willow had to agree with him. So did that make her the official henchgirl to an unorthodox and quite possibly insane psychiatrist, who clearly intended to poison people with a concentrated form of fear itself? Well, she could certainly do worse.

And if she was being completely honest with herself, she actually couldn’t imagine anything more exciting.


	3. Scare Tactics

Willow spent the next few weeks back and forth between what now felt like three jobs. She did her three full days and one afternoon at Scarefair in the week, the zombie boot camp on weekends and then pretty much all of her other spare time she seemed to spend at Crane’s place.

It hadn’t taken long for her to warm to the macabre kitchen slash lab that she now usually hung out in. It was actually her ideal environment. She probably liked Crane’s underground apartment a lot more than she liked the man himself.

She still wasn’t entirely sure what her purpose was of being there. So far, she hadn’t added much to Crane’s ‘project’. Most of the time it had been Crane showing her things, telling her about experiments he’d conducted in the past. He had mountains of research that Willow had been more than happy to look through. It fascinated her. The depth of his psychology on fear was extremely impressive, though she wasn’t going to tell him that.

She had a feeling that he was doing all of this to catch her interest even more, hook her in even deeper. Well, it was definitely working. She just wasn’t going to admit how much.

Crane had even let her have a real look at his mask. Willow loved the mask. It was exactly the kind of costume piece that she had always fawned over. Crane probably wouldn’t have been thrilled to learn that was how she saw it – the mask had a purpose after all; Willow had learnt that there was actually a gas mask rigged inside it to protect the wearer from the effects of Crane’s fear toxin – but she did anyway.

The only thing Crane hadn’t really gone into was what was actually in the fear toxin. Willow didn’t particularly mind at this stage. She was sure that she’d find out eventually. Like Crane had said before, she’d already seen too much for him to let her go now. What was one more secret to let her in on?

The thought that she was effectively condemned to this didn’t really bother her either. Now that she’d learnt more about what she’d gotten herself involved with, Willow didn’t want to escape. If she did leave, then she’d never get to experience the high from the fear toxin again. 

No, the only gripe Willow had right now was actually with Scarefair. She was fed up of working the ticket booth and Lost and Found. She’d always thought of Scarefair as being the best job in the world, but right now, the duties that she had to do were as dull as dishwater. So she went into work the next day and sought out Debby the moment that she got there.

"Oh, Willow..." Debby was surprised to see her at her office door. She knew that Willow rarely went out of her way to talk to anyone. "Can I help you with something?"

Willow didn’t do small talk, so she got straight to the point. "I want to be put back on as a scare model."

Debby was even more surprised – so much that she wasn’t sure she’d heard her properly. "Sorry?"

"You said yourself that this was only temporary," Willow pointed out. "And that the whole thing wasn’t my fault. I’ve been questioned by the police and I’ve done this whole probation thing for the last three weeks. Isn’t that enough by now?"

Debby was astonished. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Willow talk quite so much in all the time she’d worked there. And she had to admit that she was right – Willow had taken enough punishment for something that all of the management had agreed wasn’t technically her fault; that it couldn’t have been helped by any of the staff.

Plus the usually quiet girl had never asked her for anything before. She just always kept to herself. Debby couldn’t really deny her the one request she’d ever made. Especially when she seemed almost earnest about it – such a change from how she was usually so apathetic towards everything.

"Alright. There were no problems with your probation, so that seems fair," agreed Debby. "Starting tomorrow, you can go back to being a scare model. Thanks for being such a good sport about all of this."

And so Willow got her job back. As easy as that. She didn’t really like talking to most people if she didn’t have to – especially when she had to ask them for favours – but she had to admit that it was a quick way to get something done.

So the next day, she was in remarkably good spirits, at least by her usual standards, as she picked out a costume and headed to work.

She stuffed her costume and makeup kit into a bag and left for work an hour early, like she always did, so that she could get ready once she was there. Whereas she had no qualms about wearing a scary outfit in public, it tended to attract a lot of unwanted attention. Willow didn’t like attention.

The changing rooms at work were just standard cubicles similar to the ones found at public swimming pools, but the best part was the 'dressing room'. It was set up almost like a movie star's dressing room, equipped with large well-lit mirrors and desks wide enough for even the largest makeup collections. Scarefair took the makeup process seriously, as they wanted their scare models to look as scary and realistic as could be.

Unless a specific theme had been put forward by the management, there weren't set costumes that they had to wear. They were allowed to improvise, providing that the outfits would be horror-related. Willow appreciated that. She loved to experiment.

The outfit she'd brought with her this time was a gothic-looking, black and red corset dress, accessorised with white ribbons and dolly shoes. She had a blonde ringlet wig and black contacts to go with it. She loved this costume - it was one of her favourites. It made her look like a creepy life-sized doll.

She got into her outfit and then fitted the contact lenses in first before starting on her makeup. The little filmy discs made her usually brown eyes completely black - no irises, no whites, nothing. They'd cost her a bomb online, but they looked awesome when they were in, especially with the right makeup.

She'd almost finished powdering her face a startling white when somebody knocked on the door. It was one of the newer receptionists. She looked even more scared to see Willow in the getting-ready stage than in her full get-up. Willow guessed she probably didn't look a great sight with a white face, black eyes and her short hair all pulled back.

"Yeah?" she said uninterestedly. 

"Err, there's someone here to speak to you," the receptionist squeaked.

"Who is it?"

"Um, I don't know..."

Some receptionist. She hadn't even thought to ask for a name. Willow sighed, irritated by the girl's wheedling attitude. "Well, what do they look like?" When the girl looked at her blankly, she added dryly, "Man? Woman? Tall? Short?"

"Oh, erm, a man. With glasses... And a suit."

Oh, great. Even the girl's poor description was enlightening enough. Willow sighed again. "Fine, tell him he can come in."

"Um, we're not supposed to have personal visitors at work," the girl pointed out nervously.

Was this girl stupid? Willow raised her eyebrows at her. "Do you really think I'd want to have personal visitors? This is she purely work related," she improvised. Eh, it was kind of true.

It worked though. The girl quailed under her stare and made a beeline for the door. "Okay, I'm sorry! I'll send him in!"

Willow just rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror, picking up her set of fake blood cosmetics. The door opened again as Crane let himself in. "So... feeling the need to harass me during working hours too, doc?"

Crane ignored her question and walked over to watch her reflection in the mirror. "Very scary," he commented, sounding amused.

"Wait till you see the finished piece," said Willow dryly, pasting blood onto her head. She wanted it to look like she had a bullet hole in her forehead. "So what do you want?"

"Well, seeing as Scarefair is reported by the post as Gotham's _scariest_ theme park, I felt it was about time you gave me a behind-the-scenes tour of the place," said Crane.

Willow stopped what she was doing and gave his reflection a withering look. "This is my first day back as a scare model," she said pointedly.

"I know," said Crane. "You mentioned it enough times yesterday."

"In that case, you should also know that I'm not going to jeopardise that by skiving off my job just to show you around," replied Willow, going back to her makeup.

"I'm sure you'll be able to think of a reasonable excuse for it," said Crane.

Willow raised her eyebrows. "And why would I want to waste my time coming up with an excuse for you?"

"You did agree to work with me on this after all," Crane pointed out.

"I don't even know what 'this' is," said Willow. "I agreed I'd help you out and it's been oh so fun so far, seeing as I hardly seem to have done anything. But that is a side project, whereas this is my real job. I know which is more important."

"Given the nature of my research, you know that a place like this could be very beneficial towards it," Crane reminded her.

"So what?" said Willow, her attention back on her makeup. "What's in it for me?"

"How about if you show me around now, then I'll give you what you've been bugging me for over the last few weeks?"

Now that got Willow's attention. She didn't even have to ask to know that he was talking about the fear gas. "Really?"

"Really."

Willow wasn't sure what he was trying to pull. She really had been hassling him for weeks for another dose of his fear toxin and he hadn't wavered yet. So what motive did he have for it now? Somehow, she doubted it was really just because he wanted to have a snoop around where she worked.

Either way, she wasn't likely to figure out what said motive was. And either way, she wanted the fear gas. It wasn't exactly a hard decision.

"Fine," she said grudgingly. "I've gotta finish getting ready first and then I'll see if I can give the manager some spiel about you being a journalist or something."

She thought that would be enough to make Crane leave, but he didn't. So she helpfully added, "That means you can get out now."

Once she'd finished her makeup and fixed her wig into place, Willow stuck to her word and sought out Debby for the second day in a row. She improvised a story about Crane being a journalist, trying to help Scarefair's credit from the Paget incident by writing a redeeming article about them.

Scarefair was Debby's baby, so of course, she bought it instantly. She was thrilled with the idea and even gave Willow permission to spend her whole shift playing tour guide, if necessary. Wow, people really were gullible.

Willow met up with Crane again back at the entrance to the park, where she'd told him to wait after kicking him out of the dressing room. He raised his eyebrows upon seeing the full effect of her costume.

"I don't think blonde suits you," he said mildly, catching a lock of the synthetic hair between his fingers. "It's too... innocent."

Willow just gave him a blank look. "Am I supposed to care what you think?"

"Well, I could never tell you what to think, could I?"

Urgh, why was everything he said so cryptic? Stupid shrink. "Whatever," said Willow. "I got you what you wanted, so now you're a journalist and I'm your obviously thrilled tour guide. So what were you so interested to see?"

"Everything," said Crane simply.

"Very specific," said Willow, rolling her eyes. She snatched up one of the cheap park maps from the stand behind them, unfolding it and handing it to Crane. "Here, look at this and tell me something a bit more helpful."

Crane obligingly studied the map. "Besides being unoriginally named, what's the 'House of Horrors'?"

"Enter a classic horror movie setting as you explore the haunted house that was once said to belong to the blood countess, Elizabeth Bathory," Willow recited in a bored voice. "An interactive scare experience where you can see, touch and relive the horrors that unfold. Kids under the age of sixteen aren't allowed without a parent or guardian, not suitable for those with heart conditions, if you touch any of the scare models, you may be sued, yadda yadda."

Crane looked mildly amused. "Is this the attraction where you killed off Ernest Paget?"

Willow just shrugged. "It says not suitable for those with heart conditions. What am I supposed to do, besides reciting that twelve times a day and attempting to point out the multiple health and safety signs to people?"

Anyone else would probably have found her lack of remorse disturbing. As it was, Crane felt no such thing. He handed the map back to Willow. "Then let's start with that."

The House of Horrors was the fairground's biggest attraction and easily Willow's favourite one to work. It was set up to make the tourists feel as if they were trapped in a real haunted house - complete with independently moving objects, flashing lights and creepy sound effects. And as a scare model, it meant that Willow basically got to go round creeping up on people in the dark and scaring the living daylights out of them. It was great.

Since Willow always got there early and the park was only just opening, it meant that there weren't any guests yet. So for now, at least, they had the whole haunted house to themselves with nobody else to disturb them.

"There's no scare models set up yet, so if we make this quick, we can go round in peace," said Willow drolly.

"You're a very enthusiastic tour guide," Crane remarked sarcastically.

"If you're after enthusiasm, then you've really come to the wrong person."

All of the sound effects and flickering lights had already been switched on, so Willow was able to give Crane the full effects, just minus the other scare models. He asked a lot of questions regarding which of the sets gained the best results, which were included more for comedy value, if any were aimed more to target people with specific fears rather than just a general audience...

So far, this was the most that Willow felt she'd actually contributed to his research. Maybe everything else up until now had just been ploys and lines to reel her in deeper. But now that they were getting down to business, Willow found that she was actually enjoying herself. She dealt with fear on a daily basis. And she was good at it. Getting to talk about it in such detail was a definite rarity for her.

The map wasn't consulted again. Now that she'd gotten started, Willow had found that enthusiasm that Crane had been looking for and felt inspired enough to put together a makeshift tour of her own choosing.

After using the House of Horrors for the strong start, Willow then took Crane around the individual fairground rides. The rides themselves were nothing special - a Ferris wheel, a Matterhorn, dodgems - but each set followed a specific horror theme and they were all manned by appropriately dressed scare models, some of whom had now started to turn up.

Following that was Scarefair's own ghost train. It was a little more upmarket than the ghost trains found at most fairgrounds, but still full of clichés and humorous set pieces. Because as Willow had said, you couldn't have a ghost train that wasn't at least a little ridiculous.

Next was the 'Gruesome Graveyard Dig'. Scarefair had built their own artificial cemetery at the furthest end of the park. It was highly realistic and extremely detailed, to the point of the individual graves being marked out for various characters killed in famous horror movies and even some victims of real-life serial killers. They'd still been building the attraction when Willow had first started, so she'd actually given some of the suggestions that had been carved into the gravestones.

The Graveyard Dig itself was another hands-on experience for the park's guests - this also being the one that they could get most involved with. They had to solve puzzles and follow various clues in order to find the grave of the person that needed to be resurrected that day.

One of Scarefair's actors would then perform a 'live' necromancy to finish off the event. There were trap doors buried under the dirt of the graves for the scare models to crawl out of. Willow had played the part of resurrected zombie on multiple occasions. She was one of the only female scare models who wasn't afraid to get dirty, creeping up out of the supposed ground.

The cemetery was also used to stage ghost walks for the tourists on a night, with the scare models playing various ghosts. Again, it just presented more opportunities for Willow to jump out on and terrify the guests.

"There's definitely a lot of detail and work that's gone into these attractions," Crane commented, suitably impressed. He'd been inspecting the names on several of the gravestones - even recognising some of the more familiar ones.

"Well, if you want it to work well, then you've gotta put the time and effort in," said Willow, now demonstrating how the trap doors underneath the graves worked.

"Aren't you going to get in and show me what it's like to see a corpse rise from the grave then?" Crane suggested.

"Not in this outfit, I'm not."

"The blonde might look better with a little dirt in it," Crane mused aloud.

"Stop hating on the wig," Willow grumbled.

"I thought you didn't care what I think?" Crane pointed out.

Willow scowled at him. "Let's just move onto the next attraction."

Keeping in with the realism factor, the cemetery backed onto a small, replicated church, which had also been made into an attraction in itself. Again, it was all interactive inside and gave a lot of hands-on information about exorcisms, spirits and the devil.

The interactions led down to the elaborate altar, where a random guest would be picked out of the group to don priest's robes and help 'assist' one of the actors with an exorcism. Being the victim of an exorcism was another part Willow had played quite frequently. It was one of the reasons she’d become as flexible as she was.

Willow made sure that she saved the best for last on her little tour. The 'Dungeon Lab' was one of the park's best attractions - second only to the House of Horrors - and the one that Willow was certain Crane would appreciate the most.

The headlining act took place in a macabre laboratory, where a psychotic 'doctor' would grab one of the tourists, sit them on his operating table and show his audience the best way to dismember them. Willow usually played the grisly nursing assistant for this attraction. It was also quite possibly her favourite role. How ironic.

The irony wasn't lost on Crane either. "Hmm, I wonder why you saved this till last..."

"Well, I figured you'd be right at home here," said Willow, hopping up onto the operating table and swinging her legs, whilst Crane had a look around the room.

"Are these part of the hands-on experience too?" Crane indicated several various torture devices that were set up around the edge of the room.

"Some of them," replied Willow. "The guests can try some of them out whilst they're waiting for the act to come on. But with some of them, we have to just use dummies, since it’s not really possible to adapt them health and safety wise."

"Like this one," said Crane, who was currently inspecting the garrotte - a chair rigged with a metal band to be fastened around a person's neck, which was connected to a wheel at the back and would tighten as the wheel was turned. A dummy was sat in the garrotte to demonstrate how it worked.

"Exactly," Willow confirmed. "Obviously not a good idea to allow the park guests to play with a device where they could potentially strangle themselves."

"Hmm, that's a pity..." said Crane.

"Well, we could always try sitting you in the chair and I'll turn the wheel," Willow suggested.

Crane raised his eyebrows. He probably wouldn't have put it past her. "I think I'll pass."

"Hmm, that's a pity."

**XXX**

Crane still hung around after his personal tour was over, wanting to see Willow in action alongside the rides and working some of the other attractions. Willow was fine with that. If he was still about by the time her shift finished, then maybe she could get him to give her a ride to his place. She wanted that fear toxin tonight. She wasn’t on shift tomorrow – it would be the perfect opportunity.

Her luck won out. She spied Crane just before her shift ended and he agreed that she could go back with him. In fact, he seemed quite happy with the idea. That was... odd. He’d withheld from allowing her another dose of the toxin for weeks now. So what was with the abrupt turnaround? Of course, she was still going either way. She was just a little warier this time.

Since she now had a ride and didn’t have to walk anywhere in public, Willow didn’t bother changing out of her costume. She didn’t get to use the black contact lenses enough – she wanted to make the most of them. She did take the dolly shoes off though once they got to Crane’s place. They didn’t have much grip on the linoleum floors.

True to his word, Crane fetched out a separate briefcase full of various vials and canisters. He selected one of the black canisters and actually handed it to Willow this time, rather than just spraying it in her face himself. “As promised,” he said.

Now Willow was even more unsure. This was all far too tame for him. What was in it for him to actually give her what she wanted? She turned the canister over in her hand. It was heavier than she expected. She looked up at Crane, who was wearing a perfect poker face.

“Well?” he prompted. “What are you waiting for?”

Something was off. He was suddenly being too cooperative. Willow wasn’t sure why, but she wasn’t going to be play guinea pig in order to find out either.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” she decided, turning the canister and spraying it directly in Crane’s face instead.

The briefest moment of surprise registered in Crane’s expression, before he coughed and choked as he inhaled the toxin. His eyes went wide when he looked at Willow and he backed away into the metal table behind him. “Don’t...”

“Don’t? Don’t what?” Willow asked innocently. “Don’t do what you were going to do to me first? I believe they call this an eye for an eye.”

Crane tried to back away even further as she started towards him, knocking beakers and test tubes over. He was clearly starting to panic. Willow found it highly entertaining. So even the good doctor, with all his perfect composure, had fears of his own.

“So what are you scared of then, hmm?” Willow practically danced over to him. She wondered how scary she must look in her costume through the effects of powerful hallucinogens.

Judging from Crane’s reaction, quite a lot. He sidled around the edge of the table, still trying to get away. “Just stay back!”

“But that’s no fun!” Willow taunted in a singsong voice, following and backing him towards a corner of the room. She was good at this kind of role. She terrified people with in on a daily basis. “Don’t ya know? This is what it feels like to be on the other end of one of your little experiments. Don’t like being the patient for once, huh?”

“Stop it! Get out of my head!” Crane protested, clutching his head with both hands.

Well, it figured that a psychiatrist wouldn’t like people getting inside his head. Willow grinned suddenly. “But why would I do that when I’m so interested in getting _in_?”

Crane attempted to dodge past her as she moved towards him again, but she stuck out her foot and hooked it around his leg, giving him a helpful push to send him crashing towards the floor. “Whoops!” she said in a child-like voice.

Crane scrambled backwards away from her. Still thoroughly amused, Willow followed after him again. She crouched down in front of him and put both hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her through terrified blue eyes. “Just what exactly are you hiding in there?”

Apparently, her closeness was too much for the doctor in his current state. He froze completely, his eyes going painfully wide. His lips tried to form words that wouldn’t come out. Willow sighed. He clearly wasn’t going to be revealing anything whilst he was like this.

And now that he’d clammed up, it wasn’t anywhere near as fun as when he’d been panicking and trying to escape. Sure, Willow loved seeing the look of pure fear in his eyes, but it only pushed the right buttons for so long.

So now what? He was sure to bore her if he stayed like this. And Willow had no idea how long the effects of the fear gas would last. It had no doubt been cut short for her because of hitting her head on the sidewalk. Maybe unconsciousness was the solution.

Willow looked around. There were plenty of things that would make a decent enough bludgeoning weapon, particularly the glass jars and beakers. But she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself to smash Crane over the head without doing some permanent damage. If she killed him, then she certainly wouldn’t be able to put that down to an accident like she’d done at Scarefair with Ernest Paget.

So how else could she easily knock Crane unconscious? There was only one other way she could think of. And she’d be less likely to kill him that way than by hitting him over the head.,

Willow moved round until she was kneeling behind him. She could even watch exactly what she was doing – she could see the immobile Crane reflected in the shiny surface of the metal cabinet opposite them. His face was still the same terrified, white mask.

“Now, let’s see if we can put you out of your misery...” Willow whispered in his ear.

She wrapped her arm around Crane’s neck, forcing his throat against the crook of her elbow, and squeezed as hard as she could. He gasped and started struggling, suddenly back to at least some of his senses. His shoes slipped against the smooth floor as he violently tried to get away.

“Struggle and you’ll only make things worse,” Willow told him calmly, even though she doubted he’d be able to make any sense of what she was saying. The move was intended to cut off the blood flow to his brain, causing him to black out. But thrashing about could mean that she cut off his airway as well. 

Watching Crane’s face in the reflection opposite, Willow could tell that that was exactly what was happening. His eyes were rolling back in his head as he struggled to breathe. He desperately tried to loosen her grip with both hands. Trust him to make things more difficult for himself.

If it worked as well as she hoped, then the process was meant to take about fifteen seconds before Crane passed out. Willow had seen it ridiculously exaggerated in enough movies, so she’d researched it once before to find out how it really worked.

“Ten... Nine... Eight...” she continued her count aloud.

Crane’s struggling had become even more desperate – his nails raking scratches into her bare arms. All Willow could see now in the reflection was the whites of his eyes. She put her free hand on the back of his head and pushed, pressing his throat even harder against the crook of her arm.

“Seven... Six... Five...”

It seemed to do the trick instantly. Crane’s movements slowed and weakened. The choked sounds escaping his now blue lips were becoming quieter and quieter.

“Four... Three... Two...”

Crane’s hands were barely even gripping her arm now. His body was becoming increasingly heavier against her as he started to grow limp.

“One...”

His defeated hands fell away as he went completely motionless, eyelids flickering only half shut. Fifteen seconds exactly.

“Sleep tight, doc.”


End file.
